2002-10-31 9:14 a.m.
In a priest's cassock and collar
It was the dirtiest thing I could think of
Makes me wanna touch inappropriately
Get all Biblical on their tight little asses
It is a fringe benefit; it comes with the collar
Sodom and Gomorrha in the house
Unlike Onan, I will not spill my seed
Welcome to Father Winokur's Li'l Bible Boy Fuckstravaganza
This was the dirtiest outfit I could think of for Halloween. Although my friend Jeff didn't think it was as dirty as it could be. He suggested that I could attach a blow–up doll of a boy under my cassock for an added zing.
Someone told me that people in costumes always dress up as themselves—they dress up as the person they wish they were or the person they think they already are. Maybe that makes me one of the dirtiest, most perverted people on the planet. Or, at least someone who wishes he was.
It makes sense. I feel even more impish and deviant than my already already deviant and impish self when I wear this. Sort of like girls in the stereotypical, tight, vinyl vixen/cat–woman costumes on Halloween. They want to be more outgoing, maybe more promiscuous than the other 364 days of the year. But, in their own minds they were leaning in that direction already.
Costumes are sort of coming out to one's self—telling ourselves what we really are or really want to be.
Not that I want to be a priest or a child molester. For me it is about being deviant, naughty, pushing comfort zones, and being open about my sexual nature. A cassock carries even more sarcasm and sexual charge than a business suit—I always found humor in the wolf in sheep's clothing.
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